Payback
by writersmoon
Summary: A man from John's past decides to take his revenge on John. Will Sherlock and John be able to stop it? Or will he succeed? Horrible at summaries. T for some blood and guts, and probably some future swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Sherlock!**

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"Doctor!" An anxious man yelled as he hurried in carrying someone wrapped in a blanket.

"I'm coming," The doctor replied already stepping into his scrubs. He hurried over to take a look. "This is a child!" He remarked. "Never mind, get him on the table." He continued as they hurried off.

"You did it Doctor Watson!" A man greeted when the doctor emerged hours later. "I don't know how you do it." He added.

"Practice, lots of practice," John replied dryly.

"So you've saved another one," A raspy voice barked from a dark corner. John turned towards the voice slightly confused. "And why couldn't you save my son?" It continued as a dark figure stood up. "Or my wife?" He continued to yell.

"I didn't, there was nothing I could do," John stammered in reply.

"Nothing you could do?" The man replied. "Let's see if you can do nothing with this!" He continued pointing a gun at him.

* * *

"No!" John yelped as he bolted up from his bed. John groaned as he laid back down, running his hand through his damp hair. He hadn't had that particular dream in a while.

He sighed looking over to see his alarm clock only minutes away from going off. He reached over flipping it off, just in time to hear a loud crash from down stairs. John groaned sitting up and grabbing his robe.

"Sherlock, you are 3 minutes early," John commented as he shuffled into the kitchen to see Sherlock looking at the remains of what he had dropped. "We agreed no loud noises that might wake someone up before 7:00." He stated.

"You were already awake," Sherlock replied.

"You still broke our deal," John replied. "Therefore I get to sing in the shower, off key." He added.

"You only sing off key," He heard Sherlock mutter as he shuffled off towards the bathroom.

John let the water wash away the remains of his dream singing as loud and off key as he could. He stepped out shaving, finishing and hanging his trusty towel on the rack. Her hurried upstairs getting dressed before stomping back down to have breakfast.

"Finally," Sherlock commented once he appeared again in the kitchen. "Lestrade called."

"We have a case?" John checked forgetting his breakfast and headed for his jacket.

"It would appear so," Sherlock replied grabbing his own coat. "Lestrade said he was at a loss, but that is most days." He added as they hurried down to catch a cab. John listened as Sherlock gave the address.

"Wait, I know that address," John commented as the cab pulled into traffic. "I used to live in that building," He added. "What room?"

"No idea," Sherlock replied. John let the cab fall into silence as he stared out the window. Soon the cab was stopping in front of the building.

"Thanks," John said paying the cabbie before following Sherlock into the building.

"Freaks here," Sally announced in the way of her normal greeting.

"A pleasure as always," Sherlock replied dryly. "Which way is the body?"

Sally only snorted and pointed. John was shocked to see her point in the direction of the room he had stayed in. He bit his tongue as he followed Sherlock.

"Sherlock," Lestrade greeted stepping out of John's old room. "I should warn you, it's a bit, messy." He added stopping the two of them.

"I think we'll be fine," Sherlock replied with a snort.

"I wasn't thinking of you," Lestrade snapped back.

"I'm touched," John replied shocked. "But I'll be fine," He added. Lestrade only nodded before letting them into the room.

John paused for a moment before stepping in. He looked around shocked at the state of the room. Furniture was torn apart like a bomb went off, curtains ripped down, and everything was sprayed with blood.

"Body is in the bathroom," Lestrade commented to Sherlock.

John stood just on the other side of the door, looking around as Sherlock jumped around the room before stepping into the bathroom. John's brow furrowed when he saw something out of place. "What's behind there," He said pointing to a certain section of the wall.

"Nothing, it's just a wall," Anderson snorted in replied. John just rolled his eyes, snagging a pair of gloves and carefully stepped over.

He reached up and tapped two sections of the wall, the one he had questioned making a hallow sound. He traced the outline of a square, and popped it open. He was shocked to find a picture and a note behind it.

"A picture and a note," Anderson commented pushing past John to look inside. "How did you know that would be there?" He demanded. "Did you do this?"

"I used to live here," John replied irritated.

"This building is only for veterans," Anderson replied suspiciously.

"Good thing I am one," John replied annoyed looking down at the note.

"Well lucky for us," Lestrade commented. "Though the note is in a different language, I'll see if I can get a translator." He added pulling out his phone. "What language is that, Arabic?"

"It's Farsi," John replied.

"Can you read it?" Lestrade asked.

"It says," John replied taking the note from Anderson. He studied it for a moment. "It can't be," He muttered handing the note to Lestrade.

"Can't be what?" Lestrade asked confused as he followed John.

"John, I could use your medical opinion," Sherlock commented looking up. John only sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Shot twice, leg blown off, side filled with shrapnel, died by bleeding out." John replied leaning against the door frame.

"How do you know that?" Lestrade asked shocked.

"You've seen this before," Sherlock commented looking at John.

There was a silence over the room as John nodded.

"So the note," Lestrade commented holding up the note.

"You let them die, so now I shall return the favor." John replied. "I'm coming for you dear Doctor." He finished with a sigh.

"This is for you?" Sherlock asked confused.

"It is," John nodded with a sigh.

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**I hope you enjoyed it! As you might guess, this is about someone from John's past coming for him...or Sherlock...or Mrs. Hudson...**

**Anyway! I always welcome reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Sherlock!**

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The room fell to silence as everyone stared at the army doctor. Lestrade and Sherlock had a hard time picturing anyone hating the doctor, but hating the doctor enough to kill someone was even harder.

"So do you have a name?" Lestrade asked awkwardly pulling out his notebook.

"Captain Connor Westly, retired American Army." John replied. "Last I heard he was still living in Afghanistan."

"Alright, I'll see if we can find him." Lestrade commented pulling out his phone.

"I doubt it," John replied. "He is very good at staying under the radar."

"Well, he's staying near 40th street or frequents it often," Sherlock replied moving out of the bathroom.

"I suppose you can tell from the way the furniture is moved," Anderson snorted.

"No, the tobacco ash," Sherlock replied pointing to a small pile of ash. "That is from a special brand you can only by from Jim's Smoke Shop on 40th Street."

"Of course," Anderson snorted.

"It's the color," Sherlock snapped back. "That brown is only produced by 2 brands, on that is only used by Natives of the Amazon forest and a brand from the Middle East. Seeing how he used to live there I figured it's the 2nd." He explained to Anderson. "Now if you'll excuse us we have a man to find." He added with a nod as he stalked out of the room.

John followed him with a sigh. "So what is our first move?" John asked.

"Simple we get lunch," Sherlock replied.

"Pardon?" John asked.

"Lunch," Sherlock replied.

"That's what I thought you said." John replied cringing. He nodded to Sally who was laughing over what she had just heard.

"I need to know everything you know about Captain Connor Westly." Sherlock replied. "Then I can narrow down where to find him."

"Everything?" John protested.

"Everything," Sherlock replied. "I was told that people find it comforting to eat while talking about tense topics, or is that not true?"

"No it's true," John replied shocked. "There's a fairly good restaurant about a block away,' He added pointing.

"Good," Sherlock replied with a nod as they took off. Neither one spoke until they ordered food.

"So where should we start?" John asked once they had sat down.

"The beginning," Sherlock replied. His eyes narrowing, picking up the John didn't look too thrilled about sharing. "Where did you meet? You said he was a retired American."

"Yha, he had fallen in love with a woman in Afghanistan. So when he retired he settled over there with her and found work as a translator." John told. "He actually taught me enough Farsi to get by." He added.

"You were friends," Sherlock commented as the food arrived.

"We were," John replied his gaze falling to the plate in front of him. There was a silence as he took a few bites.

"So, what does he look like?" Sherlock asked noting John's 'I'm not comfortable' stance.

"He's 6'2 but he always is stooped over. Brown hair, scar on his left arm," John replied.

"Habits?"

"As you guessed he's a smoker," John commented.

"I never guess," Sherlock protested.

"Deduced," John corrected himself. "He smoked the rankest cigarettes; we all tried to get him to quite. We joked that the enemy would smell us coming because of him." He added with a laugh.

Sherlock listened to John tell him stories from Afghanistan involving Captain Connor Westly. Shockingly he didn't find himself bored at all. He watched as John's food slowly disappeared.

"So how did he," Sherlock paused not sure how to go continue his sentence.

"Turn into a murder?" John finished for him. Sherlock nodded. He watched John sigh, leaning back into his chair. Sherlock slowly pushed his untouched plate towards John.

"There were a lot of people over there who didn't like Connor and his wife being together." John stated. "In turn, their son was hated as well. Connor had sent his son to the market to pick up a few things. While he was there a bomb went off, there were some un-friendlys there and they took most of the hurt civilians off for medical attention. They didn't take Connor's son, instead they shot him twice to make sure he was dead."

"That sounds awful," Sherlock commented slowly. He studied John's grief ridden face, it always astounded him that the doctor had been through so much, but still remained open, happy and friendly.

"The kid didn't die there," John replied looking up for the first time. "He was found and brought to me, but by then there was nothing I could do." He continued. "The kid had lost a leg; shrapnel had torn apart his right arm making it almost unusable. He had severe internal bleeding, and burns everywhere. The bullets went into his left shoulder and tore it apart. Even if we replaced it he would only have a small window of movement. I still wanted to try, but I was ordered not to."

"So he blames you for not trying to save his son." Sherlock breathed. John nodded. "But the letter said them," He added as an afterthought.

"His wife died a few weeks later," John replied. "She died on my table," He stated simply. A silence settled over their table until Sherlock's phone rang.

"Sherlock," He answered. "Right, we'll be there." He continued. "They found another body." He replied shrugging on is jacket.

"Right, were is it?" John replied snapping out of his thoughts shrugging on his jacket.

"We are headed to Scotland Yard," Sherlock replied paying for the meal.

"Something must be wrong if you're paying," John replied eyeing the money.

"Come on," Sherlock replied heading for the exit. He hailed a cab and slipped in.

John followed watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. He could tell Sherlock was thinking, but every now and then his eyes would flicker over to study him. It was because of that John knew something horrible was waiting for him at Scotland Yard.

"Freak," Sally greeted Sherlock. "John," She added regarding him with a sorrowful look.

"What happened?" John finally asked annoyed with the delicate silence.

"I'll let Lestrade tell you," Sally replied softly avoiding John's gaze. John only sighed as they stepped into the elevator, wishing it could go faster.

"Sherlock, John," Lestrade greeted as they came out of the elevator. "Have you told him?" He asked Sherlock.

"No one has told me anything," John snapped annoyed.

"Let's do this in my office," Lestrade commented softly. John only growled in anger as he followed the Detective Inspector. "Sit," He motioned. John only replied with a hard stare.

"We found another body," Lestrade commented awkwardly.

"I got that part," John replied rolling his eyes.

"It's one Lisa Hale," Lestrade replied. John froze feeling for the chair as he sunk into it. "You know her?"

"She's a girl I was dating while in Afghanistan." John replied with a sigh rubbing his eyes. "It didn't really work out." He continued his heart sinking. He barely remembered the girl, but now he might have had a part in her death. "Was there another note?" He asked.

"No," Lestrade replied shaking his head. "We did find out who the first victim was," He continued handing him a file. "A Joseph Addams," He added handing another one to Sherlock.

"Damn it," John swore looking down at the smiling picture.

"You know him?" Lestrade asked. John nodded.

"I needed some extra case during med school, so I got a job as Joseph's tutor." John replied. "He was still in middle school, so he kind of looked up to me. We became friends."

"Have you had recent contact with him?" Lestrade questioned.

"No, I wrote to him for a while." John shook his head. "But we started having less and less to tell each other until the letters just stopped."

"Connor Weslty did he know about the correspondence?" Sherlock asked curiously. John shook his head. "And the one with Lisa?"

"Everyone talked about their letters over there," John replied. "What do you think he is doing? Going after my old friends?"

"You told me that he lost his son and his wife," Sherlock said slowly. "It could be possible that he was trying to take similar people from you. In this instance a young boy you mentored and a woman you had romantic ties to." He explained.

"But those were ages ago," John replied.

"He probably just remembered the names," Sherlock replied. Their conversation was cut off as Lestrade's phone rang.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Lestrade answered. John watched as the man froze before reaching out to put the phone on speaker.

"Who is it?" John questioned staring at the phone.

"It is me, my dear doctor."

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**First contact! What does the Captain have to say? Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one might take longer to put up because of the on coming school week. **

**Anyway! Hoped you enjoyed and I always welcome reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own Sherlock! **

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"Connor," John replied curtly. Sherlock watched as John tucked his chin in, one of his many warnings that he was close to becoming angry.

"Don't sound so happy to hear me," Connor's voice replied over the line. John watched as Lestrade motioned for him to keep him talking as he hurried out of the room. Sherlock saw him hurry over to a computer as they started running a trace.

"You've killed two people," John snapped back. "How do you expect me to feel?" He added.

"Like I did," Connor replied. "Like when you let my family die."

"Connor, there was nothing I could do!" John replied.

"You could have tried!" Connor yelled. "Well now I'm getting my revenge." He added once he had taken a moment to calm down.

"Your revenge?" John asked shocked. "Didn't you already get your revenge? You shot me remember?" He snapped standing up.

Sherlock stared at the man shocked; he had put much thought into the way John was shot. He would have guessed he was shot out on the battle field, by accident. He never would have guessed John was shot deliberately.

"And what did you do?" Connor's voice snapped back. "You went home, picked up where you left off. You've even become famous tagging along with that Sherlock Holmes." He ranted. "I couldn't do that, I had no friends or family to run back to. So I'm going to make you feel the way you made me feel, absolutely along. Obviously I didn't pick people close enough to you, so take them as your warning." He continued before slamming the phone down.

John just stared at the phone. He looked away when Lestrade entered the room.

"We got a location," He announced. "A phone booth on 240th street, we've dispatched a few officers to canvas around the area with an old picture."

"I doubt he's going to stay there," Sherlock commented slowly watching the still shocked looking John out the corner of his eye. "He probably just used phone booth at random. However he did know about me, and knew to call you so he must have access to the internet. But it doesn't explain how he knew we were here. Any ideas?"

"Sorry," John said snapping out of being distracted.

"Any thoughts about where Captain Connor Westly might be?" Sherlock repeated. He watched as something started to click in John's mind.

"Oh my God," He muttered. "He's going to after people I'm close to. Harry, Mrs. Hudson, You two." He continued.

"We'll get people out to Harry's place," Lestrade replied picking up a pen and paper. "We can move her into a safe house if you want."

"He might not go after Harry," Sherlock finally commented. "Think about it, he went after someone you mentored and a past lover. Since then he's done his research, so he might keep the same profile."

"So you're saying that we should focus on John's lovers and mentees?" Lestrade asked confused. John only covered his eyes with his hands.

"John how long were you with that Lisa?" Sherlock asked. "Before you left for Afghanistan," He added quickly.

"A 6 months maybe?" John replied with some thought.

"And how long was Connor Westly with his wife?" Sherlock continued.

"12 years," John replied after thinking.

"So you should concentrate on John's lovers that lasted for more than 6 months to 12 years." Sherlock finished.

"Will you stop calling them lovers?" John snapped.

"Well, that is what they were," Sherlock replied affronted.

"Well you theory doesn't work," John snorted. "Since I've started living with you the longest relationship I've had is 3 months. And I don't know any kids," He continued.

"Well, I'm going to set up protection anyway. I know I'm not getting you two to a safe house but maybe we can convince your sister." Lestrade commented eyeing Sherlock doubtfully. "Her address?" He added handing a pad of paper to him.

"She isn't going to go to a safe house," John replied with a sigh. "Or have a officer following her around, even if I call and explain."

"Then don't, we'll set up a tail." Lestrade sighed. "If that doesn't work we'll send her to Baker Street. Now I'm going to get an officer to escort you home."

"Is that really necessary?" Sherlock groaned.

"Yes, and until we find this Connor Westly both of you are on lock down." Lestrade stated sternly. "No cases," He said to Sherlock. "And no work," He said to John. "Complete lockdown." He added leaving his office.

"This is going to be a complete nightmare," John groaned. He had seen Sherlock bored with no cases, but he dreaded seeing Sherlock being forced to stay away from cases. With Connor's background, they could be on lock down for weeks.

"Look on the bright side you might get to see your sister," Sherlock replied. John only groaned again.

"You and Harry cooped up in the same building," John groaned. "I think I rather get shot," He added. Sherlock regarded the sitting doctor for a moment, wondering if there was a meaning behind his statement.

"We're to take you home," A deep voiced officer greeted stepping into Lestrade's office. Sherlock snorted pushing off from the file cabinet he was leaning on. John slowly stood up following the officers to their car.

The ride back to 221b Baker Street was quite. For once it was John's pensive look out the window that prevented Sherlock from speaking. Sherlock jumped to get out of the car when they pulled up in front of 221b.

"We need to check the premises," One of the officers objected from inside the car. Sherlock only groaned as he waited for the officers and John to get out of the car.

Sherlock only snorted as the officers made their way into the flat checking the various corners and windows.

"He isn't hiding in the bathtub is he?" Sherlock asked dryly when he heard them check the bathroom.

"I didn't know you were having company," Mrs. Hudson greeted poking her head inside the door.

"We aren't," Sherlock replied. "They are to officers from the Yard," He added as he heard them clomp up the stairs to check John's bedroom.

"Really, what have you done this time Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson replied worriedly.

"This one is John's fault," Sherlock replied pointing to where John was sitting in his chair.

"Well then, I'll just put some tea on," Mrs. Hudson replied patting John on the shoulder.

"Why don't you offer to make tea for me when this happens?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you usually cause it," Mrs. Hudson replied. "Going about insulting criminals, making enemies, shooting walls," She started listing. "I'm surprised that more people don't try to kill you more often." She continued coming over with a tray of tea.

"What are you doing tonight Mrs. Hudson?" John asked speaking for the first time.

"Well I've just got a new picture, so I thought I would stay in and watch it." Mrs. Hudson replied with a smile. "You're welcome to join me," She added with a smile.

"Maybe another time," John replied. "The officers are going to want to check your apartment," He added as he heard officer's coming towards the stairs.

"And I still have my unmentionables out," Mrs. Hudson replied hurrying off.

Silence fell across the flat as Sherlock handed John a cup of tea. The officers came back down the stairs.

"We'll check down stairs, and then set up outside." One of them explained before following his partner down the stairs. John only nodded before continuing to stare off into space.

Sherlock looked around the flat, his glance flickering over to the army doctor every few moments. His mind was filled with questions, but the only way to get the answers where by talking. As Mycroft had always pointed out, he lacked tact when it came to talking about things. He found himself flashing back to what his brother had told him.

"I hear Madagascar is wonderful this time of year," Sherlock finally said. He watched John snap out of his thoughts.

"Pardon?" He asked as if he didn't believe what Sherlock had just said.

"Madagascar," Sherlock replied. "I hear it has nice weather this time of year."

"That's what I thought you said," John replied shocked.

"Have you ever been?" Sherlock continued. John shook his head, not quite sure what to make of Sherlock's small talk. "I have, a dreaded family vacation. I wanted to go to the Caribbean."

"To go see the pirates?' John asked a small grin crossing his face.

"Yes," Sherlock replied allowing himself to smile slightly. "Have you ever been?"

"On holiday or to the Caribbean?" John clarified.

"Either one," Sherlock replied.

"I have been on holiday, but not to the Caribbean," John replied. "I have been to Florida," He continued. "And some lovely places in the Middle East."

"I have as well," Sherlock agreed. He slowly tapped his fingers on his leg. "I had always assumed that you being shot was an accident," He finally said ending the awkward small talk.

"Well I have been shot more than once," John replied. "Nothing to serious grazes mostly."

"And you were such a good doctor they got you to stay," Sherlock joked.

"Pretty much," John replied. He watched Sherlock press his fingers together. He sighed as Sherlock started studying him. He reach forward to pour himself another cup of tea.

"Ah," Sherlock finally commented as he leaned back in his chair.

"What have you figured out this time?" John asked taking a sip of his tea.

"The corpse had its left leg removed." Sherlock replied with grin.

"So?" John asked annoyed.

"If I recall you had a psychosomatic limp in your left leg," Sherlock continued. "And I would bet the leg Connor Westly's son lost was his left one. Your ability to feel emotions does astound me."

"I'm not sure I follow," John replied stubbornly as he put his tea cup down.

"Guilt is a very moving emotion." Sherlock replied. "In your case the guilt you felt for the death of Connor Westly's son resulted in a limp." He continued. "Unlike the man had stated, you didn't just return home and pick up where you left off. Guilt followed you home, and it didn't fade into the background until you started catching killers with me."

"Brilliant deduction," John replied sharply. "Now if you don't mind I am going to head to bed," He added turning sharply to head up stairs.

Sherlock watching him go with a look of confusion. "Was it something I said?"

* * *

**A chapter during the school week, I do feel quite accomplished! **

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**I did want to make a side note on the whole John having a limp because of the guilt about Connor Westly's son. It was an idea that came to me and it was far to tempting to leave out of the story, that and the idea the Connor shot him. I know it probably isn't how it happened, but I thought it would make an interesting story! **

**Well I hoped you enjoyed! I always welcome reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Sherlock! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Doctor!" An anxious man yelled as he hurried in carrying someone wrapped in a blanket. John's head snapped up.

"Set him down," John replied stepping into his scrubs. He watched the man set the blanket on the table.

"Doctor!" Another man yelled. He was followed by several others, all carrying people wrapped in blankets.

"We're going to need more hands," John commented to the first man who had come in. "Go get Captain Pierce and Baker." He barked. The man nodded running off. John unwrapped the first blanket.

"No," He muttered staggering back shaking his head at the body. He hurried to the next blanket. "No," He muttered hurrying to the next blanket, and to the next. "No!" He sobbed as he unwrapped the last body. He staggered back against the wall his eyes moving from the bodies on his tables, his friends laying there battered and bloody.

John snapped out of his dream, bolting straight up in bed. He fought to control his breathing as he pulled his knees up putting his head between them. He closed his eyes briefly only to have the images come rushing back. He stayed that way for a while, staring at the print on his bed sheets.

John looked over at his clock just in time to see it change to 12:00. A frustrated groan escaped his lips. He couldn't go back to bed, unless he wanted to be woken up violently several more times. He looked up when he heard the violin pierce through the silence.

He paused for a moment, something about it sounded wrong. He swung his feet down to the floor. He shrugged on his dressing gown and with after a moment's thought he pulled on a pair of jeans, tucking the gun into the band.

He moved down the stairs, moving through the kitchen and peering through to the living room. He froze when he didn't see Sherlock standing by the window. He reached back and pulled his gun, carefully moving into the living room.

He immediately found the two officers knocked out by the stairs. He hurried over checking the two officer's pulse. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Lestrade, I'm at home. Your officers are knocked out," John stated. "Sherlock is presumed missing," He continued eyeing the cheep stereo that sat on the coffee table. "I'm headed down stairs to see if he is down there." He continued hanging up.

He stepped over the two officers to head down the stairs. He stopped when he heard something behind him. He turned only to be met by a hefty shove.

John groaned when he came to a stop at the base of the stairs. He looked up as a dark figure moved down towards him.

"Hello Doctor," Connor Westly smiled. "Or should I use Captain? I hear you do still use that on occasion."

"Connor," John replied. He mentally checked himself over, shockingly finding nothing broken. He did find the room spinning, so he had a strange feeling he hit his head pretty hard. He was able to see his gun, an arm reach away.

"You're stupid for not checking the rest of the room," Connor almost scolded. "Then again, if someone becomes injured you just have to go play doctor."

"Where's Sherlock?" John demanded with a slight slur.

"Ah your boyfriend," Connor replied with a smile.

"I'm not gay," John protested interrupting him.

"Well your friend is safe," Connor replied. "For now." He continued.

"So what's your play?" John questioned. "Kill all my friends and leave me standing?"

"Maybe," Connor replied.

"Here's the thing," John replied. "It's obvious that you'll have all of Scotland Yard after killing DI Lestrade. I doubt you know about Sherlock's big brother, the British Government. So I know that you'll be brought to justice, and I'll move on with my life. I'll stop thinking about how you killed them, I'll get married have kids and forget about you." John spun. He could tell Connor was seriously considering John's story.

"After all they are just friends," John continued playing on Connor's thoughts. He wonder if he might be able to talk himself out of this. "Not like they're my child and wife."

"I do suppose you have a point," Connor finally commented. "I was never planning to kill the police officer," He continued. "But you do have a point." He added crouching down. "However, if I kill what's his name in front of you, it will haunt you for years." He added with a sick grin. "Say good night doctor," he added reaching out with a rag.

John could only swear as he slowly blacked out, hearing Connor hum along to the music.

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**A short chapter, I apologize. My days are going to become busier as we near Easter so it might become longer in between posts!**

**Anyway I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I always welcome reviews**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Sherlock!**

* * *

John slowly woke up, no groaning, no throbbing in his head, just a pleasant awaking. He closed his eyes briefly considering going back to sleep, leaning his head back. His eyes shot open when his head hit something hard.

His eyes searched the room, noting the padded walls. He was tied to a sturdy chair, hands behind his back. When he turned them to see how tight the bonds were, his fingers brushed by fabric. He reached out grabbing it before poking here and there to figure out what it was; he was shocked to hear a giggle.

"Stop it that tickles," A very mellow version of Sherlock's voice giggled. John felt Sherlock's head fall against the base of his neck. "Little lights," He added in a dazed voice.

"You are obviously drugged," John commented with a sigh.

"I don't know, maybe, yup," Sherlock replied popping his 'p'. John sighed as Sherlock began singing under his breath. John was going to figure out how to get out by himself.

"Hold on," John commented feeling around. "Sherlock, are your hands tied?" He questioned, not feeling the detectives bound hands.

"Nope," Sherlock replied with a giggle, one of his hands grabbing John's head and shaking it. "Apparently I'm drugged," He added. "Which I must say, is quite inhibiting."

"Sherlock, I need you to listen to me." John commented slowly. He felt Sherlock straightening up his head coming to rest against the back of John's head. "I need you to untie me," He continued.

"Nope!" Sherlock replied enthusiastically shaking his head, which in turn shook John's.

"Sherlock," John said sternly, slipping into his 'captain' voice. "I need you to focus and untie my hands."

"Not going to do it," Sherlock giggled signing again but slightly louder. John felt Sherlock's arms lift up as if he was directing the song, his body swinging back and forth to the swift beat. A smile lit up John's face when he realized the song was 'A Pirates Life for Me'.

"Well then I suppose we can't be pirates then," John commented with a fake sigh. He grinned when it got Sherlock's attention.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock demanded.

"Well you know that package that I got a week ago?" John said thinking fast.

"The one you wouldn't let me near?" Sherlock questioned.

"Exactly," John replied glad that Sherlock remembered. "Well the package was from my Uncle, who owns a business dedicated recreating pirate life for those who want to. Inside were two swords as a request from my uncle to watch his ship for a while he gets married." John spun. The package was from his uncle, who was getting married, but it only contained old family trinkets.

"Really?" Sherlock asked amazed.

"Yes, but if you don't untie me we'll probably both die." John continued glad Sherlock couldn't see his face.

"Which means no pirating," Sherlock commented in the first serious voice John had heard since he woke up. John grinned as he felt Sherlock move and then start to untie John's hands. He waited patiently as the detective fumbled around. "Tada!" He announced once he had finished.

"Very good Sherlock," John replied as he leaned forward to untie his legs. He looked up to see Sherlock standing grinning at him like a small child. "Those must have been some good drugs," John muttered as he stood up to look around the room.

"And idea on where we are Sherlock?" John asked. Maybe if he got Sherlock thinking, the drug might wear off faster, or at least give him some form of brain power.

"Nope," Sherlock replied with another giggle.

"Can you stop giggling?" John commented knocking on the walls. He heard Sherlock start singing again. "I think we're in a mental institute." John finally decided, his first thought confirmed by his inspection of the room. "Must be abandoned," He added. "Do you know of any abandoned mental institutes?"

"Nope," Sherlock replied with a giggle as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

John looked at Sherlock with a groan. He was acting like a child; John only hoped he would snap out of it soon. He doubted he could stand the giggles much longer.

"No doors," John muttered spinning around. "No doors," He added with a grin as he moved to one of the sections of padding, giving it a good punch. He swore shaking his hand, glaring at Sherlock as he laughed. The padding wasn't as soft as he had accepted.

John stood back looking at all the walls; one of the sections must be fake covering the door. If he continued punching the walls, his hand would be broken by the time he found the door.

"Chair!" Sherlock suddenly yelled randomly in the middle of his singing.

"Pardon?" John asked looking at the detective.

"I didn't say anything," Sherlock replied with a shrug and a stupid grin. John regarded him for a moment.

"Chair," He muttered eyeing the two that stood back to back. "Huh," He added as he gaze traveled to the cracks between the padded sections. He moved over to the chair, popping a leg off.

John moved around the room, hitting the padded sections listening for the different sound. Eventually he came to the section Sherlock was sprawled out of in front of. He eyed Sherlock, realizing he wasn't going to move. He stepped carefully around Sherlock, giving the section a good hit, causing Sherlock to jump scurrying a way.

"I found the door," John replied to his Sherlock's shocked look. "It wasn't like you didn't see it coming," He added turning back to the section.

He eyed the crack before wedging the chair leg in before giving it a good push. The padded section popped up, allowing John was able to grab it. With a good pull the section fell down revealing the door.

"How about that?" John asked rather accomplished. He looked over at Sherlock to find him passed out on the floor. "Great," John groaned.

He turned back to the door. He hoped by the time he figured out how to open the door, Sherlock would be awake and hopefully back to normal. He moved forward examining the lock and hinges. He even reached up to tap on the glass of the small window.

"It looks like the rats have been busy," His voice boomed through the room. John jumped as he searched the room again; this time he found a small webcam, painted white, hiding in the corner.

"What is this?" John demanded towards the webcam. "I thought the plan was to murder Sherlock in front of me, not drug him and leave us in a padded room." He continued.

"Oh, I'll kill him alright," Connor's voice boomed with the sound of a laugh. "But first I'm going to give you hope you hope first. I am going to give you a chance to escape."

"And what if we do escape?" John demanded. "Why risk it? Why risk losing your revenge, for what? Watching us run around like caged rats for a few hours?"

"My son took 3 hours to die, my wife 10." Connor replied. "Imagine them laying there with the hope that you will save them, only to have it crushed. So I'm going enjoy watching you two try to escape, I'm going to watch that hope show up. And then? I'm going to crush it." He finished.

There was a loud clunk as the door unlocked. John breathed in deeply, slowly releasing it as the door swung open. It came to a rest with a loud clang, causing Sherlock to stir.

"Come on Sherlock, we've got a long night ahead of us."

* * *

**I hoped you enjoyed this Chapter! Due to issues I might be a couple weeks until the next one is posted, but it will be posted!**

**Anyway I hoped you enjoyed it! I always welcome reviews!**


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